


Unbroken

by iliveinthemoon



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bromance, Comfort, Crying, FIFA World Cup 2014, German National Team, I Don't Even Know, Injury, Men Crying, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:07:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinthemoon/pseuds/iliveinthemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shot - Mario goes to see Marco in the aftermath of his injury on June 6 2014.</p><p>Götzeus bromance nothing more.</p><p>I'm not very good at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> Evening all. This is just a one shot from a thought that came to me. No smut, no sex and the like, it's just a bromance. 
> 
> I was watching Angelina Jolie's war drama Unbroken - so that's where the title came from. Plus I like to think that Marco and Mario have an unbroken bond, so it kind of fits :)
> 
> This is a work of fiction it's not real

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mario takes a steadying breath as he stands outside the treatment room – the door is closed but he can hear voices inside. He feels terrible for Marco. Everyone feels terrible, everyone feels deflated. 

The team had been told after the match that Marco wouldn’t be going to Brazil because of his ankle injury. He’d not seen Marco since he’d watched him limp off the pitch shortly after the tackle that shattered his dreams. Jogi hadn’t wanted anyone to get distracted; besides he was receiving treatment so no one could go see him anyway.

With a slightly trembling hand he reaches out and grabs the door handle and pushes it down and the door opens. His head is down, still needing a little more time before he looks at Marco. The voices fall silent and he steps inside the room, bracing himself for the devastating scene he is sure to see.

Mario slowly lifts his head and sees Marco sat on the treatment bench, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped forward and shaking lightly with his ankle strapped up. Mario gulps and feels sick – it shouldn’t be like this. This shouldn’t be happening. Marco should be sat in the dressing room with everyone else excited and happy that they are off to Brazil to compete for the biggest prize in world football, not sat on a treatment bench heartbroken.

Without a single word uttered the room empties leaving just Mario and Marco, the door closing behind him. Suddenly Mario is aware of a tiny sob from Marco, making him truly aware of his heartbreak, his devastation, his hurt, his anger, and his disappointment. Mario’s heart goes out to his best friend.

He’s not sure if Marco is even aware that he’s in the room. He steps forward hesitantly, not wanting to startle Marco and possibly injuring him even further. He coughs a little just to make Marco aware that he’s there. The sobbing stops and he sees Marco tense.

‘H-hey.’ Mario croaks as he runs his finger along the edge of the treatment bench and ghosts his trembling fingers over Marco’s damaged ankle and has to fight back tears, his eyes are welling up.

‘Mar.’ Mario mumbles as he stops at the top of the bench so he’s now level with Marco.

‘I am so so sorry.’ He mutters, no longer able to stop his tears as one quietly spills from his eye and rolls down his pale cheek.

He sniffles and has to grasp his hand over his mouth to stop himself, the last thing Marco needs is him sobbing like a baby. Marco is silent, unmoving, his head still in his hands. Mario takes another steadying breath as he sits on the edge of the treatment bench facing his friend.

He gulps as he gently places his hand on Marco’s shoulder, he can feel him shaking beneath it.

‘Mar, Marco. Look at me. Please.’ Mario whispers.

Marco slowly moves his hands from his face, but he can’t lift his head at first. Then even slower he raises his head up, but he can’t look at Mario. Not straight away, the feelings he has are too current, too new, too raw. 

‘Mar.’ Mario whispers again, his voice strained.

Marco moves his head to look at Mario. Mario takes a breath as his bottom lip trembles from the look on Marco’s pale and tear stained face. The look of absolute devastation. Marco’s not able to look Mario in the eye, he glances up but then back down, but Mario catches sight. Sight of the pained and empty look in Marco’s eyes.

‘Oh Mar. I am so sorry, I really am.’ Mario whimpers as he grips hold of Marco’s hand holding it in-between his own.

Marco sighs, the tears drying in his eyes.

‘Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault.’ He says quietly, but his voice is absent of any emotion.

‘But you belong on that plane. You belong on the team. You belong at the World Cup. You belong there with us.’ Mario replies bitterly.

Marco looks down at his strapped ankle and his shoulders slump again. His eyes are feeling sore, for near enough the entire second half he’d cried and sobbed even before it was confirmed that he wouldn’t be continuing on this incredible journey. He just knew. He could feel it.

Marco sighs and looks away from his ankle, but not at Mario either. Instead he focuses on a point on the other side of the room. He sighs again and shakes his head.

‘Not this time Sunny. Not this one.’ He mumbles, now the tears are back and stinging his eyes. 

Marco takes a deep breath and hears a muffled cough next to him. He turns his head and sees that Mario is crying, his scrunched up face a mix of red and white.

‘Oh Sunny.’ Marco gasps as he adjusts on the bench and reaches out and pulls Mario into his arms to hug him and comfort his best friend.

Mario wraps his arms around Marco and clings on to him tightly. This isn’t right, it’s not fair he tells himself. He can’t help letting his tears run down his face and drip onto Marco’s training t-shirt – he’d not really noticed that Marco had changed into his training kit, but that’s of small matter.

‘Come on, stop that. It’s not going to help. It is what it is. Crying’s not going to change anything. Nothing will.’ Marco soothes in Mario’s ear as he rubs his back comforting his friend.

Mario chokes back his sobs and tears and drops his tight grip on Marco and moves back a little. He looks embarrassed to be crying so hard about something that was out of his hands, something that didn’t directly affect him, but something he felt guilty about. He was going to Brazil, but his best friend’s not.

‘It should be me comforting you, not the other way round.’ Mario jokes, trying to make light of the sorry situation.

Marco shakes his head and feigns a smile, but it barely makes a dimple.

‘Don’t blame me for this one. It’s not my fault you’re getting so emotional in your old age.’ Marco quips, desperately wanting to stop thinking of the injury, at least he’d got some good pain relief.

‘Hey, says you who cried like a baby when I told you I was leaving for Bayern.’ Mario retorts a small smile on his lips. 

Marco shakes his head and scoffs. More painful memories.

‘Look Mar. I am really sorry about your….. injury.’ Mario softens his voice as he gestures toward Marco’s stricken ankle.

‘I know you are. But…….’ Marco begins but he trails off, unable to try and say anything positive about his injury or comfort his upset friend.

There’s a knock on the door and they both look over knowing that it’s indicating time is up.

Mario looks down at the ground trying to think of something to say, something positive to try and comfort his friend, but he can’t. What can he say? There’s nothing he can say that’ll draw any comfort.

‘So….’ Marco murmurs.

Mario spins round and in a flash he grips hold of Marco, pulling him in to a tight hug, it surprises Marco and he even gasps with shock. But he hugs Mario back just as tightly.

‘We’ll win it for you. I promise you. I’ll win it for you.’ Mario states clear enough for Marco to hear despite the fact he’s talking into Marco’s collar.

‘No Sunny. You’ll win for yourself. Don’t worry about me.’ Marco replies.

Mario shifts back and looks Marco in the eyes, his face serious as he shakes his head.

‘No Marco. I’m going to win the World Cup and I’m going to do it for you. You hear me. For you. You’re my best friend.’ Mario insists deadly serious.

Marco nods, a faint blush forming on his cheeks as he chews on his bottom lip, touched by Mario’s claim.

‘You’re more than just a best friend to me Marco. You’re my Brother.’ Mario remarks.

Marco nods and smiles faintly.

‘Brothers.’ Marco proclaims as they smile at each other knowing the strength of their bond.

Mario hops off the bench and heads for the door, he sees Marco’s shirt hanging on the back of it. He glances over his shoulder to see Marco looking down at his ankle with a sorry expression on his face. Turning his attentions back to the shirt he quickly snatches it off the hook rolls it into a ball and shoves it up his own training shirt.

‘Well I best get going. Press and that, you know.’ Mario rambles with his back to his friend as he blushes and grabs the door handle.

‘Okay.’ Mario hears Marco respond and even then his voice is flat and emotionless, it breaks Mario’s heart.

Mario purses his lips together before dashing out the room and into the corridor, pulling the door close behind him. He lets out his breath as he presses his back against the wall next to the door and closes his eyes.

‘What’s that?’ A voice breaks his silence.

Mario lifts his head and opens his eyes to find André Schürrle standing a few feet away with a questioning look on his face, his eyes fixed on Mario’s seemingly expanded waistline. Knowing he can trust André he steps forward while slowly pulling the shirt out.

‘I’m taking it to Brazil. I thought it would be a nice gesture.’ He informs André as he unravels the shirt.

André’s expression changes in an instant when he catches sight of the name on the reverse of the shirt and his eyes dart up to meet Mario’s. Mario blushes deeper, but André is simply grinning at him.

‘So he’s with us?’ André asks and Mario smiles and nods enthusiastically.

If anyone understands the unbreakable bond between Marco and Mario then it’s André.

‘I’ll show it to the world when we reach the podium or whatever and Philipp lifts the World Cup.’ Mario divulges his plan.

‘For Marco.’ André smiles and Mario smiles back.

‘For Marco.’ He beams.

‘Does he know?’ André asks suddenly his voice hushed.

Mario shakes his head.

‘No, it’ll be a surprise.’ He smiles warmly.

‘He should be there with us.’ André mutters and Mario drops his smile, the words are so true and only make him feel sad once again.

‘Well this way a little bit of him is.’ He tries to put a positive spin on it despite it being painful and making them both feel guilty that they’re going and he is not. 

\-----------------------------

Over a month later as Philipp is passed the FIFA World Cup trophy Mario unfolds Marco’s football shirt and waves it proudly above his head as they all cheer and scream in unbelievable joy. The world sees Mario pay tribute to his absent best friend. A small part of Marco Reus is there with them in Brazil.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - hope it was okay :S It's been a while since I've written, especially this kind of story.
> 
> Sorry for any errors or mistakes or spelling errors :) :|
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think - good or bad.


End file.
